Poems ✍️

Happy Birthday, Abram!
As the years gain in passing much speed
we get wrinkles, our hair fades to white,
more and more we resemble a weed
and we lose precious inches in height.
Ninety-one is a wonderful age,
only nine to a century's crown,
take each year as another new page,
read the contents with care and a frown.
I have yet to encounter a man
who was favoured by heavenly eyes,
and whose motto would be YES I CAN,
he is brilliant and caring and wise.